JODIE
Istare at the TV screen, but I don’t see any of it.
It’s been a week since the funeral. A week since I had to say goodbye to the second man in my life after only doing the same to my brother last year. And it hurts as much as it did the day we discovered they’d gone.
I know it takes longer than seven days. I expect the pain to last a lifetime, to feel the black hole within me for the rest of my days. But I’d hoped that I might be able to breathe a little easier by now.
Maybe I would be, if I didn’t also feel like I was losing my mum right along with my brother and stepdad.
While I might worry that I’m not coping. I know for a fact that she isn’t.
She hasn’t left her bedroom since the day of the funeral.
The food I take in barely gets touched, and every time I look at her, I can’t help feeling like a little bit more of her has died.
I get it. She’s lost almost everything. Her son, her partner.
But I’m still here. And knowing that I’m not enough right now is killing me.
I want to help. But how can I when all she wants to do is drown?
My life restarts tomorrow. My compassionate leave is over. I have to rejoin the rest of society, plaster a fake smile on my face, and pretend that, behind my façade, my entire life isn’t falling apart in front of my eyes.
My phone lights up beside me and my heart jumps in my chest in hope.
But it quickly withers and dies. Something else to feel guilty about, because I shouldn’t be disappointed to see my best friend’s name staring back at me.But ever since last weekend, I’ve craved to see his name light up my phone once more.
It’s hopeless. It was a hookup, and my fickle heart read too much into the messages I found the next morning.
Bestie Bitch: How’s it going? I’m drowning in textbooks. MAKE IT STOP!
A smile pulls at the sides of my lips. This was always going to happen.
Jodie: I told you not to leave it to the last minute… AGAIN.
Shaking my head, I tuck my phone into my pocket and head for the kitchen.
I need something. Anything to dull the ache and loss that constantly squeezes my heart like a vice.
My phone buzzes again.
Bestie Bitch: All right Goody Two-shoes. Feel free to come help.
Jodie: It’s your career, not mine. Enjoy your all-nighter.
Truth is, I’d quite happily go hang at her place and just watch her write the assignment that’s due by 11:00 tomorrow if I thought it would help. But all I’ll do is end up distracting her and forcing her to miss another deadline.
She might leave literally everything to the very last minute, but she’s worked too hard to get to where she is for me to swoop in with my grief and misery and ruin it for her.
I pull the fridge open and stare at the depressing contents: milk that I’m pretty sure is fermenting in the bottle, some cheese, butter, one egg, and some seriously questionable veggies in the bottom drawer.
Pretty much sums up my life right now.
Giving it up as a bad job, I pull the freezer open instead.
The only thing of any interest is a bottle of vodka I stashed behind the peas a few days ago. But, trying to be a sensible adult who needs to get back to reality tomorrow, I push the drawer closed and force it and the oblivion it could offer me out of my mind.
I rummage through the rest of the drawers, but when I find nothing containing any decent sugar, I let out a groan and swing the door shut as if it’s personally offended me.